...Byleth thinks that to himself sometimes, whenever he feels a little lonely. It's a strange thought, and a strange feeling to go with it. He can't quite justify to himself why he should be lonely at all.
Things are just different, he supposes. The war has ended, and his students have left him. Graduated, in a sense — though of course they are all grown men and women now and they graduated many years ago. Felix and Sylvain and the other noble students — they've all returned to their family territories to work out the end of the war. Annette went back to Fhirdiad's school of sorcery. Dedue, as ever, remains by Dimitri's side — but even he has had time to return to his people in Duscur as of late, to bring them the support and reforms that his king promised.
There is talk of marriage between some of them, but no betrothals have yet emerged. Perhaps they are all too busy, still, to think of being in love.
Byleth, for his part, knows who he is in love with. On a whim, he had his his mother's ring resized for the man long ago. But he also thinks that he should never present it. That he shouldn't dare to ask; that it should stay a hopeless love. The more that they settle into an age of peace, the more that he thinks that his king deserves better than his old teacher who is now the archbishop.
Even so, sometimes he has secret, pointless hopes when Dimiti does things like pull him aside for private conversation. Today, Dimitri has summoned him to discuss — of all things — Jeralt.
Byleth has not had cause to think about his father in a long time. ]
Dimitri.
[ There is something in him that has become rather more austere, ever since he took the seat of archbishop. In some sense, he is the same as ever; in another sense, he seems more buttoned up than ever before, ever graceful and priestly, perhaps a bit distant. He doesn't seem to be looking Dimitri in the eyes — the eye, as it were. ]
You said you had something to tell me... about my father?
[Reforming a country is no easy task; reforming a continent? Seemingly impossible. Dimitri stands as the King of Faerghus, the position that was meant to be his from the beginning, and yet he had to fight for.
Ever since the war had finished, and skirmishes were less and less likely to happen, he had been busy with paperwork. Long were the days he spent sleepless over a table for strategy, now he spends them over a table for reforms.
There's so much he has to do, so many people to talk to, so many to help.
Dedue always makes sure he sleeps, but when he's not around, Dimitri has no reason to follow the schedule set by his most faithful retainer.
It was on such a time where he decided to look around the many books and artifacts saved in the libraries of Faerghus's castle, finding things about long lost houses that never were to be gone in the first place, like the ones the Abyss ruler told him about, for example.
But it is in one of these old tomes that he find something he thinks is interesting. So much, in fact, he doesn't wait until he's done reading the old words, before he summons the Archbishop to his home.
To be fair, he's quite excited about seeing his old professor again, the sight of him always brings a smile to his face. Yet, the contents of this peculiar book make him think. Did he do the right thing in calling Byleth here?
He can't ponder for too long, for after passing out for almost a whole day and then taking a well deserved bath, Dimitri finds himself jittery as he waits in his office for the Archbishop.
When he enters the room it's as if light was brought into the world once more, and Dimitri smiles softly.]
Professor, thank you for coming in such short notice.
[He signals for the man to sit in one of the plush chairs in front of his desk.]
I have found something I think you'd be interested in, as I said in my letter, about Jeralt.
[Without waiting for a response, in his excitement, he takes the old tome from his desk drawer and presents it to Byleth.]
This, here.
[The book is old and falling apart, but even with one functioning eye Dimitri was able to decipher the words on the cover "The House of Eisner" in faded letters.]
[ Even now, the sight of Dimitri's gentle smile still makes Byleth's chest feel tight. If his father's old diary is any indication, and Rhea's testimony can be believed, he has no pulse because he has a Crest Stone in place of his heart — but he feels it all the same. A dizzying weakness. The irrational impulse to reach out and touch Dimitri's handsome face.
He ignores that impulse, as he's done many times before. Stamps it down into a secret corner of his heart. He cannot — should not — have these feelings. Anyway, Dimitri wants him to look at something else. ]
...A record?
[ Byleth hums softly to himself as he flips through its pages. He was often fond of reading such historical texts when he was at the monastery; for a mercenary, he reads with a surprising speed, so it doesn't take him long to skim the contents. A more detailed read can happen later when he is in his own quarters.
If the book's contents are to be believed, the Eisner family was a long-standing noble house in Faerghus, but its decline began some four hundred years ago, and the house floundered in irrelevancy for some time, making desperate bids for an heir with a Crest, to no avail. The tome ends with the chronicled birth of its final heir to the house: Jeralt.
Jeralt did not have a Crest at the time of his birth.
This information does not quite surprise Byleth. He heard something of this from Rhea long ago. He closes the tome on its final words and takes a long breath. ]
...I see.
[ An underwhelming reaction, perhaps. But Dimitri likely knows his old professor well enough to know that the man feels deeply, despite his more subdued reactions. ]
He never did tell me much about his life before the mercenaries. I suppose this explains why.
[ He swallows hard on a sudden lump in his throat. ]
...I always felt he had some tie to Faerghus. But he never wanted to speak of it with me.
[Dimitri watches Byleth's reactions with a close eye, the smile he's trying to hold back making itself known as the other flips through the pages.
If he were a dog, his tail would be wagging.
There's nothing more than he wants, now that the fighting is over, than to make Byleth happy. He wants to see the man smile, because every little show of affection on the other's face makes his heart skip a beat.
When the professor gets to the last pages, Dimitri's smile falters, and he's a bit anxious. Did this discovery make things harder for Byleth?]
If you'd like, we could try to find more information. There's quite a few tomes I have yet to check in the libraries of the kingdom.
[ Byleth sets the book down on the table. Not to abandon it, of course — he'll take it with him to have a longer look at it later — but he's noticed now that in the time it took him to flip through it, Dimitri's smile faded somewhat.
That can't be borne. He likes it when Dimitri is happy and that invisible tail is wagging.
And he shouldn't — he knows he shouldn't — but, sensing a faint need to placate him, Byleth reaches up and brushes some of Dimitri's hair out of his eyes. It's gentle — fatherly, he thinks? Something he could make excuses to paper over. He is a priest now, sort of. He was Dimitri's professor once. It should be alright. To want to touch him. It should be excusable, the idea of touching him.
(He knows that this is only a guilty man's pretense.) ]
Would you really look into it for me?
[ Byleth's voice is soft. ]
I haven't any way of repaying you now.
[ Now that the war is over, he means. What good is he now that the war is over?
What a terribly funny thing for the Archbishop of the Church of Seiros to say, but Byleth seems quite serious about it, on the whole. ]
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The happy end has come and gone.
...Byleth thinks that to himself sometimes, whenever he feels a little lonely. It's a strange thought, and a strange feeling to go with it. He can't quite justify to himself why he should be lonely at all.
Things are just different, he supposes. The war has ended, and his students have left him. Graduated, in a sense — though of course they are all grown men and women now and they graduated many years ago. Felix and Sylvain and the other noble students — they've all returned to their family territories to work out the end of the war. Annette went back to Fhirdiad's school of sorcery. Dedue, as ever, remains by Dimitri's side — but even he has had time to return to his people in Duscur as of late, to bring them the support and reforms that his king promised.
There is talk of marriage between some of them, but no betrothals have yet emerged. Perhaps they are all too busy, still, to think of being in love.
Byleth, for his part, knows who he is in love with. On a whim, he had his his mother's ring resized for the man long ago. But he also thinks that he should never present it. That he shouldn't dare to ask; that it should stay a hopeless love. The more that they settle into an age of peace, the more that he thinks that his king deserves better than his old teacher who is now the archbishop.
Even so, sometimes he has secret, pointless hopes when Dimiti does things like pull him aside for private conversation. Today, Dimitri has summoned him to discuss — of all things — Jeralt.
Byleth has not had cause to think about his father in a long time. ]
Dimitri.
[ There is something in him that has become rather more austere, ever since he took the seat of archbishop. In some sense, he is the same as ever; in another sense, he seems more buttoned up than ever before, ever graceful and priestly, perhaps a bit distant. He doesn't seem to be looking Dimitri in the eyes — the eye, as it were. ]
You said you had something to tell me... about my father?
no subject
Ever since the war had finished, and skirmishes were less and less likely to happen, he had been busy with paperwork. Long were the days he spent sleepless over a table for strategy, now he spends them over a table for reforms.
There's so much he has to do, so many people to talk to, so many to help.
Dedue always makes sure he sleeps, but when he's not around, Dimitri has no reason to follow the schedule set by his most faithful retainer.
It was on such a time where he decided to look around the many books and artifacts saved in the libraries of Faerghus's castle, finding things about long lost houses that never were to be gone in the first place, like the ones the Abyss ruler told him about, for example.
But it is in one of these old tomes that he find something he thinks is interesting. So much, in fact, he doesn't wait until he's done reading the old words, before he summons the Archbishop to his home.
To be fair, he's quite excited about seeing his old professor again, the sight of him always brings a smile to his face. Yet, the contents of this peculiar book make him think. Did he do the right thing in calling Byleth here?
He can't ponder for too long, for after passing out for almost a whole day and then taking a well deserved bath, Dimitri finds himself jittery as he waits in his office for the Archbishop.
When he enters the room it's as if light was brought into the world once more, and Dimitri smiles softly.]
Professor, thank you for coming in such short notice.
[He signals for the man to sit in one of the plush chairs in front of his desk.]
I have found something I think you'd be interested in, as I said in my letter, about Jeralt.
[Without waiting for a response, in his excitement, he takes the old tome from his desk drawer and presents it to Byleth.]
This, here.
[The book is old and falling apart, but even with one functioning eye Dimitri was able to decipher the words on the cover "The House of Eisner" in faded letters.]
Please take a look.
back after lny! 🧧
He ignores that impulse, as he's done many times before. Stamps it down into a secret corner of his heart. He cannot — should not — have these feelings. Anyway, Dimitri wants him to look at something else. ]
...A record?
[ Byleth hums softly to himself as he flips through its pages. He was often fond of reading such historical texts when he was at the monastery; for a mercenary, he reads with a surprising speed, so it doesn't take him long to skim the contents. A more detailed read can happen later when he is in his own quarters.
If the book's contents are to be believed, the Eisner family was a long-standing noble house in Faerghus, but its decline began some four hundred years ago, and the house floundered in irrelevancy for some time, making desperate bids for an heir with a Crest, to no avail. The tome ends with the chronicled birth of its final heir to the house: Jeralt.
Jeralt did not have a Crest at the time of his birth.
This information does not quite surprise Byleth. He heard something of this from Rhea long ago. He closes the tome on its final words and takes a long breath. ]
...I see.
[ An underwhelming reaction, perhaps. But Dimitri likely knows his old professor well enough to know that the man feels deeply, despite his more subdued reactions. ]
He never did tell me much about his life before the mercenaries. I suppose this explains why.
[ He swallows hard on a sudden lump in his throat. ]
...I always felt he had some tie to Faerghus. But he never wanted to speak of it with me.
Happy lny!
If he were a dog, his tail would be wagging.
There's nothing more than he wants, now that the fighting is over, than to make Byleth happy. He wants to see the man smile, because every little show of affection on the other's face makes his heart skip a beat.
When the professor gets to the last pages, Dimitri's smile falters, and he's a bit anxious. Did this discovery make things harder for Byleth?]
If you'd like, we could try to find more information. There's quite a few tomes I have yet to check in the libraries of the kingdom.
no subject
That can't be borne. He likes it when Dimitri is happy and that invisible tail is wagging.
And he shouldn't — he knows he shouldn't — but, sensing a faint need to placate him, Byleth reaches up and brushes some of Dimitri's hair out of his eyes. It's gentle — fatherly, he thinks? Something he could make excuses to paper over. He is a priest now, sort of. He was Dimitri's professor once. It should be alright. To want to touch him. It should be excusable, the idea of touching him.
(He knows that this is only a guilty man's pretense.) ]
Would you really look into it for me?
[ Byleth's voice is soft. ]
I haven't any way of repaying you now.
[ Now that the war is over, he means. What good is he now that the war is over?
What a terribly funny thing for the Archbishop of the Church of Seiros to say, but Byleth seems quite serious about it, on the whole. ]